At Fifth Ages' End
by Reya Levith
Summary: A story of a 30-year-old prophecy, concerning the dreaded end of the Golden Age of the Gods. Can a single quest bring this new threat to its knees? Or will it be the end of human civilization? AU to the events in the HoO series.
1. Release

_(A/N): _Wow_, it's been a while since I've looked at this old thing. Being inspired by the forum of .. and her pals (Percy Jackson's Live It Up), I rescued it from gathering virtual dust and began editing. The forum made me remember how cool PjatO is, and I'm now really ashamed I forgot. The wait for __Mark of Athena__ is driving me to madness, I guess. This storyline was conceived before HoO came out, but I'll be keeping it AU from recent events because I like the way it is now. Enjoy! I have other chapters undergoing serious editing, so expect updates soon._

_Disclaimer: Oh my God, I knew there was _something_ I forgot to put on my Christmas wish list last year...*facepalm*_

At Fifth Age's End

Ch. 1

"Anything?" asked Artemis. I peeked through the bushes at the herd of deer. Our quarry, a female deer with a distinct limp to its back leg, put its head down to graze.

"Yes," I replied, glancing back my best friend, the Greek goddess of the hunt. Artemis fitted a silver arrow to her beautifully-crafted silver bow, sighting her shot lazily. I smiled and watched keenly as the glimmering arrow of moonlight spun through the air, heading unerringly for the target.

_Twang!_ The doe fell, an arrow to the eye as the rest of the herd leapt off. Artemis and I worked our way over to inspect the kill. Chanting the ancient Greek blessing, we watched a wispy trail of smoke as it spiraled upwards, an animal's soul on its way to its place in the heavens. Artemis turned to face me.

"Do you think you can do better, Elena?" she challenged, a superior smile alighting her features.

I grinned slowly, letting my lips spread across my face leisurely. "Easy."

As we ran through the forest in the direction of the herd, I readied my bow, nocking the arrow with the ease of thirty years' practice. Of all the gods, Artemis is my truest friend. Since I fell into a self-induced coma thirty years ago, the gods have been my only companions. And until the Oracle's prophecy begins, they will continue to be. Meanwhile, I'm aging at a much slower rate than normal to compensate the delay. At the moment, I'm supposed to be about sixteen. Apollo says so, anyway.

We skidded to a crouch as we neared the herd. I took my time, circling the herd in a wide circle to get a better angle. Picking out a young buck, I let fly, feeling, rather than judging, my arrow's direction and momentum. It hit the young buck's neck as it sprang milliseconds too late from the path of the arrow. Twisting, it fell as the herd fled in a flurry of hooves and fur.

I walked unhurriedly, deliberately, towards the fallen deer. Artemis materialized a moment later, a look of bemused defeat on her face. I hadn't hit the desired spot of an eye, but even so, my kill was young and sprightly, harder to shoot than an injured deer.

"Alright, I concede." Then her trademark half-smile returned to its rightful place on her lips as she continued, "Just this once!"

I stuck out my tongue at her, an action that would have gotten me turned into a deer myself had she and I not considered each other equals. Murmuring the Greek blessing reverently, we watched as the silver smoke trailed upwards into the sky.

Our moment of peaceful silence was interrupted by a loud squawking. We turned in surprise as a raven carrying a message strapped to its foot flew towards us. Artemis frowned. "That is strange. I thought I had told Thalia where to go in my absence…" she trailed off as she pulled out the message and alighted upon the Olympian seal.

I drew closer, wondering what the message was about. Artemis does as she pleases, preferring to roam free with her immortal Hunters than to stay on Olympus. The letter was in Ancient Greek, but since Athena insists that I am fluent in that language, and Latin as well, I had no more difficulty reading it than Artemis. But the letter wasn't good news.

"Oh, of course. A lazy afternoon, and an emergency meeting crops up." I tried to hide my disappointment. I didn't enjoy being left in my comatose state alone, because it changes into a white blankness. Boring, to say the least.

"I am sorry. I really want to stay, but the Council demands my attention." She shouldered her kill easily, with all the grace of a panther.

With a melancholy wave, she started shimmering and I averted my eyes. I don't know if I would burn alive in a dream, but I wouldn't want to take the chance. When she disappeared, I stood and watched the forest fade into blank, white nothingness.

I am suffocated by the silence, made all the more obvious from the departure of my best friend.

Then, out of the blue, everything collapsed. Rather violently.

* * *

><p><em>Where am I?<em> I looked up, vision blurred, and saw a blue expanse with clouds. Panicking, I spun and tripped, disorientated. Catching myself in the nick of time, I slipped into a push-up stance. I was confused. Was someone sent to keep an eye on me during the meeting?

Then I groaned. "Not _Demeter_. The way she goes on about cereal..." But as I looked at the horizon and saw wide expanse go on forever before me, I realized I must've finally woken from my coma. The gods created a sort of globe illusion, and you could always see the boundary into blankness easily.

But if I was awake, that meant the dreaded prophecy was happening now.

I assessed my surroundings. A city of great beauty shone around me, with eternal torches and the smell of altar smoke (I assume, I've never smelt it in reality before) tickling my nose. It matched the description the gods had given me of their home, Olympus. They must have brought me here after I fainted. The Palace of the Gods, and so some answers, must be here somewhere. I followed the path I was on, heading for an elegant, dome-shaped structure. I climbed its steps, slowly, then picked up speed until I was skipping two at a time. I had to know what was going on.

Barely stopping at the top of the stairs, I braced my shoulders and slammed open the huge double doors.

The hairs on my arms tickled. My skin itched with the excess of power in the room. A total of twelve super-powerful beings, each five meters tall, made the air crackle with godly power. And they were staring at me hard, as if I would dissipate if they didn't.

"It seems we have a bigger threat than we initially assumed," rumbled the gravelly voice of Hephaestus, Lord of the Forges. A spark glowed in the depths of his beard.

"Yes, it does seem we need to call for the help of our children, once again," Athena's calm voice replied. She glanced at me reassuringly, and gave the tiniest of nods.

"We must contact Chiron immediately," said Poseidon, leaning forward in his seat. They all looked towards Dionysus, growing a grapevine from his armrest in utter boredom. I couldn't blame him. Wild drunken parties compared to stately Council adjournings were utter chaos.

When he noticed their pointed looks, he sighed, "Yes, I'll get right on it."

"Wait," I said, still half-stunned. "What is happening? What threat? What is so alarming that you must call an emergency Council of the Gods?"

Artemis smiled crookedly, "Well, we were just discussing what to do with this wayward Titan. We thought it would blow over, but now we see it's more serious than it looked."

"And who is this Titan? Atlas? Hyperion?" I remembered the few conversations I had with Apollo about the prophecy and what it meant.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Kronos?" I ventured. I had hoped that Luke Castellan, late son of Hermes, had destroyed Father Time so irreversibly that he would never regain a consciousness. But maybe…

"Not Kronos, dear, just…Krios," soothed Hestia, my second favorite goddess.

"Krios? The ram-horn Titan? Why is _he_ such a pressing threat?" Krios, Lord of the Southern Constellations, wasn't the most despicable of Titans. Not in the least.

"He seems to be trying to launch another attempt against Olympus," rumbled Father Zeus.

"Chiron's on his way," Dionysus put in. He went straight back to pruning the grapevine curling artistically over his armrest to his satisfaction.

"Do not worry, Elena. You must go to Camp Half-Blood first to receive an official quest. We have faith in your abilities," reassured Artemis. There was a murmur of ascent.

"Thank you, Lady Artemis." I gave a formal bow. "And I am grateful for your care," I continued, bowing to the rest of the assembled gods. "Your training will serve me well, I am sure."

"And I am sure you will do your mother justice," said a voice, dispassionate and cool. I glanced up and saw a set of scales glittering like a chill over me.

Nemesis. Goddess of revenge and balance. Ethan Nakamura's mother. _My_ mother.

The voice continued, whispering, "Be careful, dear. I don't play favorites, and if you cannot repay your debts, I will take what I feel is due."


	2. Capture

_(A/N): Didn't expect to get this up this fast, but I was pretty satisfied with what I've done. If there is anything that doesn't flow as smoothly as it should or if you just don't like a section, please tell me, so I can fix it. I hope I didn't make the part when he finds out about being a demigod too rushed or awkward. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Yeah, sure, of course I own it. I'm totally Rick Riordan in disguise. _

At Fifth Ages' End

Ch. 2

Brrring! Screamed the bell for recess at Campbell. Students slammed books closed, scooped up their stuff and scrambled out the door.

I've never done that. Why bother? Recess is only fun if you've got friends, which I don't. The counselor has always asked me how I feel about that, and my answer hasn't wavered.

I like being alone.

Dodging bodies and books and flying pencils (they're quite common), I made my way to my locker. It's one of the few boys' lockers that look clean. And smell clean. And no, I'm not gay.

A gaggle of giggling girls slipped past me, engaging in their favorite past time: gossip. Girl cliques always make me feel like they're plotting a murder or bank heist. Is that just me?

In the world of Campbell High, I'm a loner. A very temperamental one. I don't like people in general, but my rules are perfectly simple; have nothing to do with me, and I'll refrain from glaring you into dust. It's a win-win situation.

With the crowd thinning out, I stuffed books into my locker and bolted it. I have the topmost locker, which is good because I breach six feet. I'm only a sophomore.

"Loser." I turned with a glower, thinking the voice was addressing me.

It belonged to Johnathan Hale. He's the school's senior footballer. And if I dislike people in general, I despise top dogs the most. Much too full of themselves.

This time his victim was someone I recognized; Stephen Kane, who sat in front of me in math and was more than a little nerdy sometimes. He was decent as people went.

That's me being nice there. It doesn't happen very often.

"Whatsa matter, nerd? Can't see?" Johnny leaned down and sneered at Stephen, who sprawled on the floor half-blind. His glasses were in Johnny's meaty hand.

My anger flared. Bullies.

"Get lost, Hale," I said.

When Johnny's barely functional mind realized who I was, he sneered some more. "Who's gonna make me, Dorman?"

"Just skip the backtalk and swipe at me, Hale," I advised. "Your brain won't be able to take much more, and I really, really want to get expelled this time. It's been three whole months."

Johnny snarled and obliged, dropping the glasses and advancing angrily. I waited.

He took a swipe and I dodged, positioning myself so I could see both him and his friends, who just as big as he was and still blinking confusedly. Wouldn't do either me or Stephen any good to leave my back uncovered.

"I see the orphan is a coward, too." I stiffened slightly. That was a very touchy subject.

"Hale, if you had a delusional mom, you would enjoy living without her too. But you don't, do you? You couldn't survive without your mommy kissing you goodnight."

Johnny's face reddened and he charged. Maybe I'd actually hit on the truth there.

I shifted my body to the left and rammed my right fist into Johnny's stomach, under his grabbing hands. He gasped. It's a pity no words can describe the hilarity of his face, so you'll never get how comical he looked. Trust me, it was one for the yearbook.

I pulled my fist back and shoved him into his oncoming servants. They stumbled like a six-legged drunkard and collapsed on the floor in a tangle of meaty limbs and empty heads.

My lips jerked in silent mirth. They looked like a drunken beetle.

Stephen Kane finally got up, scrambling to his feet and balancing his glasses on his thin nose.

"Thank you!" he said, taking my hand and shaking it fervently, evidently forgetting I didn't like people doing that. I blinked and worked my hand out of his grip. He was scrawnier up close. Did this guy even have meals?

If he'd ever lived with my mother, he would know that food wasn't something to be skimpy with.

Stephen wasn't very intimidated by my weirded-out stare. "That was amazing! Where did you learn how to do that?"

I blinked. "Let's just say Grandpa isn't an old man you'd want to pick a fight with."

"That's so cool!" He looked like he was about to start building a temple in my name. Not a good sign.

Just then, our biology teacher thought he had better take a look outside to see if the earlier commotion was anything serious, and stuck his head out the door.

His mouth dropped open when he took in the scene and he immediately looked at me. "Dorman!"

"Yeah, I know, sir," I replied straight-faced, although the sight of the drunken beetle nearly made me laugh. The teacher must have noticed.

"This is no laughing matter, young man. This is your third offence, and you've only been here three months! I need to speak to the principal about this." He disappeared down the hallway.

"Oh my God," Stephen said, horrified. "Oh my God." He didn't seem to realize I'd wanted to be kicked out of the school the moment I'd been enrolled in it.

* * *

><p>After an hour of pointless discussion in the principal's office, I was expelled. It took them long enough. At least I got to see Johnny's mother crooning over him like an overgrown baby..<p>

I called Grandpa and told him the 'bad' news, hardly able to keep from smiling. He was overjoyed. This school business hadn't been our idea. _Mom _had come up with it.

Grandpa was so happy, he let me drive. Although I was all set to take my driving test this weekend, Gramps thought it wise to wait before I took the Ferrari out for a daily spin.

Grandpa owns two, actually. One's gone on tour in Europe.

And just in case you are wondering, we live in a private estate with a real long driveway that takes forever to walk up. Running is much more fun.

Look, just because Grandpa is freaky rich from being an investor, doesn't mean I go around telling people. My childhood was spent living with dear delusional mom, anyway.

"Loosen up on the accelerator, it's a sports car. It doesn't need to be told to go fast." I grinned widely and obeyed. Grandpa watched me from shotgun and shook his head. "What in the world kept you? I thought you would never get down to breaking some idiot's neck in that place."

"Just wanted to make sure they got what they deserved," I told him. "Those people never guessed I could buy a house with my allowance." I snorted in derision.

"And it's going to be like that wherever you go, James," Grandpa told me quietly. "It's much better than the alternative."

"The _fall-over-themselves-to-lick-your-sweaty-feet_ alternative? I should think. Do I take a left here?" Grandpa looked faintly amused.

"You should know." I gave a non-committal grunt and turned left smoothly.

I drove up the winding driveway, sliding into the garage with barely a squeak of wheels. As I got out of the car, a tingling feeling came over my arms. My skin glowed lightly. I glanced all around and saw a faint silver-gray eye above my head.

What the hell?

Grandpa came up, my bag in hand. "Good maneuverability! I might even decide to let you-" It was then he noticed the glowing. He gaped for a moment before catching himself, snapping into action. "Come," he said, hauling me by the arm.

He tumbled through the doorway, dragging me up the stairs and into my room to pull out a backpack, old and tattered. "Pack," he ordered.

When Grandpa starts talking in one-syllable, one-word sentences, no matter how confused you are, you follow his directions. I stuffed clothes, a sketchbook and a toothbrush into the pack. Grandpa was already in the car, the engine rumbling. He slammed the accelerator pedal down so viciously I nearly fell out.

"What's going on?" I asked. I gripped the seat as we swerved into the main road.

Grandfather looked strained. "I need you to listen to me, because I'm not going to say this again. Disregard the 'myth' in Greek mythology. Everything I taught you about it is as real as a slap in the face. The gods, the monsters, they all exist. And so do the heroes, the children of the gods." He gave me a quick glance, serious as he could be.

I looked at him, like, _Grandpa you've gone senile, stop the car and go back,_ because that was exactly what I felt like saying right then, if I could've gotten my mouth to work.

"Don't look at me like that, young man. I'm not crazy. Your mum might've have done you a favor by being so completely stoned all the time if it kept the monsters off your scent. But that doesn't mean you disregard the claiming. Once your godly parent acknowledges you, you don't ignore them."

"I'm not Greek," I told him like I would have a young child.

"Humor me. ADHD and dyslexia put together are a formidable-and dangerous-indication of a half-blood. Wake up, Son of Morpheus."

"Grandpa-"

"I said humor me, James. You'll get solid proof soon enough. What we need to do now is to make sure you get the kind of proof that isn't going to kill you, at least straight off. Chiron will explain this in greater detail."

"Chiron? Isn't he the centaur that trained the greatest Greek heroes?"

"He's _still _training, James. He's been training for the last two thousand years."

* * *

><p>It was after midnight when we got to Long Island Sound, New York. We stopped in the middle of a field growing strawberries. Why? I don't know, but as I've said, you don't question Grandpa in a crisis. He quickly explained that to get to this 'Camp Half-Blood', I'd have to sprint up the slope before us.<p>

"What about you?" I asked. Grandpa gave the hillside a slightly wistful look.

"Mortals aren't allowed past the border. Now, scat!" I scrambled out the car and ran.

Barely halfway up the slope I heard a sound like many arrows being loosed in succession. "_Down!_" Grandpa yelled.

I dove for the ground and rolled, coming up on my feet shakily. Spikes, half a meter long, embedded themselves inches away as I spun around. Grandpa had got out from the car and was aiming a rifle at a monster, as in control and unruffled as ever.

"Back," he said menacingly. The monster, with a lean, angular man's face and a lion body, snarled but did not advance. It was standing at the foot of the hill.

"Grandpa!" I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just leave him here. This was Grandpa we were talking about.

"I'll see you soon, James. There's nothing you can do here. Go," Grandpa ordered. "Go!"

Slowly, reluctantly, I moved backwards up the slope. I glared at the monster-it fit the description of a manticore, I think-with all the desperation and anger I felt. It bared its teeth.

I reached the crest of the hill and the manticore sprang, its tail flicking. Spines imploded Grandpa's rifle, knocking him to the ground. I plunged into unconsciousness as spikes suddenly grew out of my right arm, the impact sending me down the other side of the hill.


	3. Arrival

(A/N): Wheeee! Long chapter, longer than most anyways. I envy those people who can write like, pages and pages and pages per chapter. If you've been confused (I realized I should have put this in Ch2, whoopsies) I am alternating between two POVs, Elena Sinal and James Dorman. This one is Elena, as was Ch1, but Ch2 was James. Sorry about any confusion. Enjoy! Read on, good sirs!  
>Disclaimer: I'm running out of quirky ways to say that I DON'T OWN PJATO.<p>

At Fifth Age's End

Ch. 3

"Here we are, my dear," said Chiron as I tried to scrub the sleep out of my eyes.

It was about three in the morning. Chiron had had to wait until nightfall to escort me to the camp, as he had to oversee a game called 'Capture the Flag'. Then an 'unexpected arrival' requiring urgent medical attention had showed up.

Slipping off Chiron's back, I grasped my backpack and yawned widely, quite like a male lion in the African shade, from what Artemis had shown me of the-what was it called?-savannah.

"This is your cabin, my child. Make yourself at home. Breakfast is at 8:00, remember. I will see you fresh in the morning."

"Mmnn," I mumbled, too tired to make sure I was bowing right. "Thank you, Chiron."

He smiled and galloped off. The cabin was completely devoid of people, with a row of bunks, silver grey walls, and a golden set of weighing scales along with some maps.

It looked simple. Adequate. But most importantly, real, not a dream.

Stepping inside cautiously, I trailed my fingers along the metal of the bunk frames and breathed in the fresh, tangy scent of the forest just outside. So this was reality.

I smiled a little. It certainly smelled wonderful.

I dropped my things at the door, and curled up on the closest bed. Then I was asleep.

Demigods never, ever, sleep well, _especially _when there's a prophecy in motion. In the dream, I was back in the throne room, in the midst of the gods' seats of power. The ceiling above shone with stars, bright and gleaming with the heroes of old. But the scene before me wasn't so peaceful, or wondrous.

I was a boy. It was disconcerting, but I didn't have time to really be disgusted about it. I was dressed in silver Greek armor that weighed down my slight frame. A sword, standard celestial bronze, was in my hands, perfectly balanced.

I parried a blonde, well-tanned girl's strike and lunged for an opening in her guard, her blade held only centimetres too high. I couldn't control this dream. The boy, whoever he was, was good, though as we went on battling the blonde with wild grey eyes, I realized that my left eye could not see a thing, for the simple reason that it was not there. I knew this was important, but at the moment the heat of battle was clouding my concentration. All of a sudden, the girl took us by surprise, kicking us hard in the stomach hard and running to the other battle, which was happening at the other end of the throne room.

"Luke, listen!" She yelled, charging the first combatant. He was in golden armor that shone harshly, with sandy hair to match. Even his eyes were liquid gold. Casually, cruelly, he flicked his hand and she went flying, slamming into-_was that Athena's throne?_-and sliding to the floor.

"Annabeth!" The opponent of what was certainly Kronos, currently inhabiting Luke Castellan's body, yelled. The sword he held was beautiful, a shining example of the beauty of celestial bronze.

Belatedly I realized who I had to be. A chill struck me down the spine, and I shivered in the depths of the dream.

The boy who had yelled was breathing raggedly, struggling to stay on his feet. He had raven-black hair and wild, determined eyes that boiled as green as the stormiest sea. Perseus Jackson, Hero of Olympus. I realized was standing between him and Annabeth Chase. Which, according to my least favorite goddess, the one and only Aphrodite, was not a safe place to be.

At that moment, I certainly believe that.

Somewhere, I could hear music, the kind that invoked melancholy and bittersweet feelings. The satyr, Grover Underwood.

Kronos could not get up. He reached weakly for his sword, but it didn't come.

"Nakamura! Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson's secret weakness. Kill him, and you will have rewards beyond measure," commanded Kronos. Our-me and Ethan's-vision immediately moved towards Percy's midsection.

"Look around you, Ethan," Percy told us tiredly. "The end of the world. Is this the reward you want? Do you really want everything destroyed-the good with the bad? _Everything_?"

"There is no throne to Nemesis," we murmured, gripping our sword. "No throne to my mother."

"That's right!" Kronos cried, still unable to rise. A patch of hair smoldered. "Strike them down! They deserve to suffer." But he no longer had a firm hold on our-Ethan's-loyalty.

"You said your mom is the goddess of balance. The minor gods deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn't _balance_. Kronos doesn't build. He only destroys," Percy reminded us softly.

Grover went on playing his pipes, a wistful tune of tranquility and peace. Ethan Nakamura, my late half-brother, swayed to the wish for a better day, his good eye blinking.

We hefted the sword in our hands and charged. We headed for Kronos.

Vaguely, I felt Ethan's steady resolve. We cut at Kronos's neck, and should've killed him.

Except he was invulnerable. We fell back, arms numb from the impact. A shard of our own blade had ricocheted back at us, and it was fatal. The pain numbed us.

"Treason," Kronos sneered, rising over us, doom on the horizon. Ethan didn't feel scared, only tired, which was more than I could have said for me.

"Deserve better," we choked out. "If they just...had thrones-"

Kronos stomped his foot once. A gaping wide hole opened, and we fell through it.

Ethan's mind felt iron-cold, accepting. I screamed and woke myself up.

The sun's rays were fast creeping in through the windows. Gasping, I ripped the covers away and concentrated on breathing. Then I dragged myself out of bed, numb all over.

I changed quickly into some jeans and a white cotton shirt before dousing my face in cool water. I ran a brush through my brown curls, wincing as the tangles resisted. Taking my favorite purple hairbands, I tied my hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way.

I stepped out of the cabin and looked around. The camp was in a secluded valley, shrouded in Mist to keep out monsters and mortals alike. I was told the cabins used to be arranged in a U like the gods' thrones on Olympus, but now they also included the minor gods. My cabin had its back to the forest and before it was a collection of fountains, statues, a crackling hearth, and objects I guessed were basketball hoops.

Apollo had shown me them before, of course. He had even offered to 'shoot a few hoops' with me, whatever that meant. I could never get him to fully explain his way of speech.

To the left, a lake, cerulean blue and just right for canoeing. To the right, the forges burned and training arenas for all kinds of weaponry bathed in the sunlight. I saw campers milling about, talking, laughing.

I was just beginning to wonder what I should be doing when I heard a strange sound, long and drawn out. It reminded me of the sea Poseidon had created for me once. Immediately, half-bloods began to file into a single line, by cabin. I was last, just after Hecate's children. They didn't seem to notice me, conversing animatedly about spells. We walked up a hill facing the sea to a Greek-style pavilion.

I could spot Chiron talking to a satyr, and next to him, Mr. D, in his trademark leopard print shirt and purple jogging shorts. I didn't know him well; he was not allowed on Olympus unless Zeus said so. I did know, however, that no matter how fat and dislikable he seemed, Mr. D could leave whole cities senile. Or with flippers.

I sat at my table alone, serenely watching the hubbub. Reality seemed fun to me.

Finally, after receiving our food and making the appropriate sacrifices, we sat and began to eat. I eyed my empty goblet skeptically. Others were drinking all kinds of non-alcoholic beverages, but I didn't know how they did it.

"Orange juice," a Hecate camper announced. And the goblet obeyed.

Oh, I see. I thought for a moment, then requested Ribena. Hestia was always going on about the stuff, and it did taste very nice.

The food was delicious. Just as I had swallowed my last mouthful, Chiron stood up and banged a hoof for silence. A reluctant quiet fell as Mr. D stood up heavily.

"Well, I'm not glad to see you either," he sighed. "We have a-I suppose you could say belated-addition to our camp. Lena Sal. Er, Elena Sinal, daughter of Nemesis. Yes."

I stood up to a silence. Then someone sitting alone at a table in the fore stood up, raising his glass of blue liquid with a smile. He was the Percy Jackson I had seen in my dream.

In an instant every camper roused a huge cheer and raised their glass in a toast. They looked so much like their Olympian parents it was rather scary.

Chiron stomped again, and Mr. D continued in a bored voice. "Yes, yes, huzzah. In other announcements, yippee to Cabin Six's victory in Capture the Flag. Also, Cabin Seven is hosting an archery competition on Thursday. Now, scamper, before you become bottlenoses."

The campers didn't seem fazed by his sarcasm. Whom I assumed were cabin leaders each rapped out individual orders and led their cabin mates away from the pavilion.

After speaking to Chiron, Perseus Jackson walked up. His sea-green eyes twinkled like Poseidon's does when he's happy. He stuck out a hand "Percy. Mr. D is always like that."

"So I have been told." I took his hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you. Elena." He was only a couple inches taller than my own five foot seven.

"You're not new to this 'Greek gods' thing," he said, leading me away from the pavilion.

"No," I agreed. "Not really. But I am new to this age. Do I just shuffle around and try out things?" We passed a group of campers with the elven features and mischievous grins. Hermes' children, no doubt. Two of them waved at Percy, identical smiles on their faces. Percy saluted them.

"Yeah. You're the only child of Nemesis, so you do what you want. The counselor of a cabin is the one who has been here longest, or has successfully challenged the former cabin counselor in a duel."

"I see. You _are_ the Perseus Jackson, hero of the recent Titan War, yes? Excuse me for asking," I amended, as a shadow passed over his face. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine," he assured me. "But I wouldn't consider myself the hero. It was Luke, really."

"You are as modest as the gods admit. Grudgingly, mind you."

Percy laugh good-naturedly. "That's to be expected." He spotted Cabin Six walking ahead of us and said goodbye to me, jogging off to catch up with Annabeth and her siblings.

I looked out over the valley and decided to start at the archery range. I hoped Apollo's children were capable of handling a little well-meaning opposition.

* * *

><p>I watched from the edges of the training ground as Ares' head counselor, Clarisse, ran her cabin mates through a series of moves that were specifically sequenced to enhance one's speed and strength. Though heavy, Cabin Five's members were quick, lunging and turning with a lion's might.<p>

But a lion wasn't necessarily the most effective hunter. It was just the most powerful.

I was so engrossed in observing Clarisse demonstrate a lunge-and-parry combination that it took me a while to realize I had an unknown presence beside me.

I jerked to the right, startled. The boy smirked at my expression.

I cursed quickly in Greek, angry at myself. He had a light tan, and was lithe like a panther. Black silky hair fell raggedly over his light gray eyes. He wore a black jacket over a T-shirt, blue in color, and crisp black jeans. His dark blue shoes were modeled like a boot but with canvas material. I remembered Apollo saying they were the cool new footwear, Converse.

"Am I worthy of your presence, Your Highness?" he asked, still smirking. I realized I had been staring and glared back.

"When did you get here?" I demanded, ignoring the question.

"A while ago. I take it you don't get caught by surprise often." He shifted his gaze out to the training ground again, gray eyes analyzing each move. The way he stood made him fade into the background somehow, unmoving and _not there_.

"I don't." He didn't press me for more information. "Your name?"

"James Dorman." He didn't ask my name in return. Instead, James jerked his head at the Ares' cabin. "Want to join?"

"Why not?" I reasoned. We stepped out just as Clarisse told her half-siblings to pair up and prepare to duel. She spotted us and sneered.

"Punks," she sized me up, arms crossed. "What do you want?"

"We didn't realize this was a private lesson," quipped James, but his tone was guarded. His hands, I noticed, had clenched slightly, as if preparing for a fight.

"As long as you can keep up, you're in," Clarisse grinned evilly. "You can duel her." She pointed at me. "She looks like she can handle it." I cocked a questioning brow, hoping that was a compliment rather than a sarcastic jab.

"Really." James' voice was skeptical. My pride flared a bit at his expression, and it was my turn to clench my fists just a bit.

"Really," promised Clarisse. She motioned for us to begin at our leisure.

James drew a knife from inside his jacket and stood at guard. "A weapon, Your Highness?"

I ignored the verbal barb and took off one hairband, twirling it once; it morphed into a wicked sharp hunting knife as long as my forearm. It was one-half of my 10th birthday gift from Artemis. It was part of a pair.

All James said was, "Ah." We faced each other, wary, and without warning he lunged forward with a quick horizontal slash. I leapt back, jabbing at his knee. He slipped out of reach, almost easily. This boy had marvellous reflexes, but I held back all the same. There was no need to flaunt my abilities.

"I forgot to ask your name earlier."

I hid my surprise. Not many people deigned to chat while dueling. "Elena. Elena Sinal."

"Oh? That Nemesis girl? I imagined you taller. I wasn't here this morning," he explained, flicking my thrust to his side upwards with a sharp jerk of his hand. "I only just woke up from a coma."

"You're new? You're very good at this. Why were you in a coma?" I remembered Chiron mentioning something about an 'unexpected arrival'. Perhaps he had previous training outside? One doesn't simply start out as good as him.

James shrugged while sidestepping like a graceful albeit lethal dancer, twisting his arm for a feint to the shoulder. "Manticore. Left arm got choked full of spines."

"Oh." I was barely listening. He was attacking constantly, leaping in and out of my reach, twisting always to one side or the other. Registering an opening by pure instinctive habit, I caught his blade and twisted. The knife spun out of his hand with a sharp _s-lick_. Before it hit the ground I was holding my blade level to his chest, unwavering, just like Ares and Athena always did. I even copied their smirk, despite my best intentions.

He wasn't amused at all.

"Should I scream? You've obviously got the advantage here." His drawling tone and biting sarcasm angered me. I narrowed my eyes.

"You are saying that if you had training, you would be better than me?" I demanded hotly. The nerve!

"Erhm...duh," he said, casually. I tripped him with a jerk of my leg and nicked him with my hunting knife, deliberately drawing blood. It wasn't harmless at all, but it would scare him.

"You would like to see what I can really do?"

"I told you she could handle you," Clarisse smirked. She stood to one side with her arms crossed. I suddenly tensed, sensing that the whole Ares' cabin was stopping to gawk at us. I dislike being in the center of attention. And I had lost my temper in front of a whole cabin.

Gods curse it.

"I'll remember to listen to you more next time," drawled James, still on the ground, though his infuriating smirk was still in place. I nearly growled in frustration.

"Let him up," Clarisse ordered. After a long stare, I did; she didn't seem like someone you wanted as an enemy. James stood up in one smooth movement, cleaning off his jacket cockily.

I have never wanted to hit someone so badly. Artemis was right; boys _were_ exasperating

"Ahem!" All of us turned to find Chiron behind us. "May I speak to Elena privately?"

"Yes sir," Clarisse said, bowing her head respectfully. After a moment, James followed suit. I looked up at Chiron.

Chiron looked grim. "I have something to show you."

Without warning, he scooped me onto his back and galloped off. We halted at a relatively big house and I slipped off his back. Chiron bent his head through the doorway and clip-clopped to a set of drawers. Reaching into the first drawer he unfurled a tattered piece of paper and passed it to me. Feeling nervous, I read it aloud:

"_Monsters will destroy The West,_

_Unless this girl wakes from her rest,_

_Sent to kill the Olympians' foes,_

_She shall watch many in death throes,_

_An evil one whom she befriends,_

_Watches, as the Fifth Age…ends._

_~The Prophecy"_

"That," said Chiron to a deathly silence, "is the prophecy ordained when you fell unconscious."

"It sounds very terrifying," I managed, struggling to swallow down my fear. My throat burned.

"Yes, my dear. A terrifying future awaits you. Proceed wisely."


	4. Foreshadowing

_(A/N): Please excuse the delay, but homework, school, and reality caught up (all at the same time! Can you believe it?). Plus, I had a bit of trouble with getting the distinction between the two protagonists' voices. I'm still not sure I got it perfectly right, so if anyone has any complaints or tips that could help, it would be much appreciated. Thank you and enjoy!_  
><em>Disclaimer: I just need to travel to that other dimension and get some proof. Then I'll show you all. <em>

At Fifth Ages' End

Ch. 4

I sat at Morpheus' table, alone. Dad evidently hadn't been too busy, if you catch my drift.

It was a struggle not to close my eyes. These last few nights hadn't been restful at all. My whole body ached from tip to toe. And the general surroundings weren't helping.

It was really annoying.

One of Hypnos' children passed me the plate of steak, yawning widely. I particularly envied them at the moment. They slept so much (and so deeply) it was like they walked around in a blanket of sleepiness. When they did decide to walk.

I took a portion of the meat and passed it to the Hecate table. The brunette who took it giggled and smiled at me. I was too tired to even try to be civil as I abruptly turned away.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that daughter of Nemesis, Elena, glance at me. She raised an eyebrow at my rude behaviour, but didn't say anything. She went back to watching the rest of the cabin tables and sipping her beverage. Was it blackcurrant, or Ribena? I couldn't tell.

Anyway, what Elena thought about my behaviour wasn't my concern.

She didn't seem mortal sometimes, or even half-mortal, when she stared at you with those ice-blue eyes and leveled her blade at your unprotected chest. She was a living weapon when she fought: graceful, deadly, and focused. Very focused.

The camp talked about her a lot. Whispered that she was god-trained. A prophecy to fulfill. A prophecy that warned of an end to the Golden Age of the Gods.

Prophecies never end well, I learned. I learned a lot by eavesdropping.

In the three months I'd been enrolled in a school, I'd managed to perfect the art of invisibility. Not the Helmet of Darkness invisibility, per se, but the ability to vanish from everyone's mind. I wasn't just unimportant; I wasn't even there.

I resisted the urge to place my head on top of my arms and just fall asleep. This whole 'Son of Morpheus' shindig was exhausting.

The dreams just couldn't seem to leave me alone. I'd wake up sweaty, tired, unfocused from the random rush of images that had swum through my mind all night. They were an unrelenting tide. I hardly knew what I was seeing all the time.

But I did get the sense of someone trying to manipulate me. Someone trying to pull me to him, and was using Grandpa as bait.

I didn't like being played with.

Lunch went by uneventfully. I slipped out of the pavilion with everyone else, hands in pockets, unnoticed.

Someone stepped on my foot. I ignored it. It wasn't the idiot's fault he couldn't walk properly like everyone else. And I was half-asleep anyway.

A few meters later, someone else bumped me in the shoulder. I felt a wave of anger crash over my drowsiness. So much space and people somehow managed to knock into others?

I've mentioned before I disliked people in general. I also hated human contact.

I moved away from the crowd before I punched someone in the face for no good reason. Somewhere in my brain I have a gauge. When it flashes into the red, I start to kill people.

From past experiences, it flashes red all too easily.

Someone tripped me up from behind.

For a moment, all I did was stop in my tracks. Then my gauge burned crimson and I whirled and lunged, knocking him down. I knew this guy, an Apollo kid who'd challenged me at hand to hand combat and had gotten his butt completely and totally stoked, nothing personal. But I guess he thought different.

Alright, so I had hit him on the nose multiple times and threw him on the ground more than once, but if he had wanted to stop he would've stayed down, now wouldn't he?

"Look, if you're still unhappy with the nose incident, I've told you, it was nothing personal," I growled. He glowered at me and after a long while of holding that with a cold stare I let him up.

"Get lost."

He turned and ran.

Someone came up behind me, just barely noticeable. This person was quieter, harder to sense than most.

Of course it was _her_. Elena frowned and crossed her arms as she followed the retreating figure with her eyes.

"What?" I asked irritably. She turned her head just enough to raise an eyebrow.

"You overreact," she informed me matter-of-factly.

"Gee, how perceptive of you to notice," I gushed sarcastically. She rolled her eyes.

"It could have just been an accident, him tripping you up," she continued, unfazed by my biting tone.

"I don't believe in coincidences. I knew the guy, he had good reason to try that on me. What's a little payback when it's due?" Elena gave me an exasperated look, which I held with cool disinterest. Finally she ended the staring contest and huffed.

"Boys," she muttered, walking down the side of the hill. I allowed myself a slight smirk.

The daughter of Nemesis was a study, alright. She was even worth the effort of conversation sometimes.

Don't get any ideas. I'd watched her on the training ground these last few days. Archery was her domain. She could wipe the floor with the guts of each and every Apollo kid at our camp, easy. Sword-fighting-wise, she didn't come on much, preferring to lurk on the edge, but when a brash camper-always a guy-challenged or taunted her, her eyes would flash angrily and she would come forward.

She always won. Even Percy, who had politely challenged her to a friendly duel, was fought to a standstill, a draw. Clarisse la Rue of the Ares cabin was the next in line to be challenging her to a fight, and the Hermes cabin were already taking bets.

She also hung out a lot at the stables, where the pegasi were kept. She was a pretty decent rider, if the Aphrodite children's grudging nods were to be believed.

Now, let me just make clear the fact that I am not stalking her. I just happen to hang out at the stables and the training arenas a lot too. But I'd usually be sketching.

Sketching was one of the few things that calmed me down. And the contours of perfectly capable swordsmen and women, not to mention the graceful quality of the pegasus' wings, were my current obsession.

So was flicking a pair of knives around. Fighting a yawn, I decided to head over to the training ground to work off the bad mood. Maybe Annabeth could spare a few minutes, if she wasn't busy with Percy.

Annabeth Chase of the Athena cabin is _the best _knife fighter at camp, and the position is well-earned, not to mention respected. She can be quick and light, strong and steady, as the situation requires.

A small, naively innocent part of my brain that refused to die a natural death hoped I could be just as good as her one day, maybe better. I hadn't been able to squash that preposterous idea out of my nerve clusters quite yet.

I was halfway down the slope, but a large, equestrian shadow falling across me made me pause. Chiron smiled when I turned and bowed slightly at the waist.

"Sir."

"James. A package came for you. From your father, Morpheus."

"My dad?" I tried not to look too shocked.

I hadn't been expecting any magical sign other than the claiming that would, I don't know, be proof that my dad actually knew I existed. Chiron suspected that because of his recent involvement on the wrong side of the war, Morpheus was cautious about claiming me, resulting in my rather late arrival. And I wasn't too sure I wouldn't try to kick him between the legs if he did show up. He must have known about mom and her 'problems'.

Cautiously, I took the package.

There was a note attached to it. _'My son, a gift that will soon be essential to your survival. I foresee this. Use it well.'_ I ripped the brown wax paper apart and peeked inside.

Two sparkling celestial bronze blades glared back at me, demanding to be held and admired. My eyes widening in surprise, I obliged, dropping my hand in and pulling out two well-balanced knives, each gleaming with a bold, brazen sheen. I grinned approvingly, letting them catch the light as I twisted them every which way for a better look.

"Cool." Nodding to myself, I made a mental note to toss a good portion of steak into the sacrificial altar at dinner. For all my misgivings, I had to admit Morpheus sure knew what made a good pair of knives.


	5. Beginning

(A/N): By gods, it's been a heck of a long time. I apologize for the wait, really I do. I could tell you all that crap about being caught up in school and homework and shiz and it would be true, but I really could've made time if I had tried. I am a guilty slacker by nature, so procrastination is my greatest frenemy. To make it worse this isn't really a 'big important' chapter at all, but I did have a bit of trouble getting into Elena's voice again. Enjoy.

_Disclaimer: I'm very impatient for the next instalment of 'Heroes of Olympus', the Mark of Athena, so no, I'm obviously not dear old trolling Rick. I am very glad for the distraction of the Kane Chronicles book...of which the name has escaped me for the time being. Oh well._

At Fifth Ages' End

Ch. 5

I walked forward to the center of the archery range as the soft murmur of the crowd died down. I felt the wary, attentive gazes of the Apollo cabin burning into my back.

It is strange to be going up against competitors I actually have a chance, a good chance, to _beat_. The gods have been my only companions for 30 years, after all. Winning never really was an option. The best compliment I could expect was 'well enough. For a mortal', and that even from Artemis herself.

I shook myself out of my thoughts. Focus. Not the time for me to let my mind wander.

I eyed the seven targets that I had to shoot, exactly a hundred meters away. Trying to loosen my tense back muscles up, I glanced at Chiron, waiting for the signal to begin.

He gave a small nod.

Taking a quick breath, I drew my bowstring, feeling it slide between my fingers smoothly.

In one smooth motion, I swung my bow upwards and loosed the arrow, feeling rather than seeing the path it would take. As it spun on a direct course to the center of the target, I was already releasing the third arrow, too busy to watch each and every shot's magnificent flight towards the bullseye.

Full points. Beautiful.

And deadly, too, I suppose. Ares always tells me there's 'beauty in obsolete destruction'.

For a long, long moment, nobody spoke. I tried to ignore the feeling of Cabin Seven's disbelieving stares boring into me.

I should have abstained from participating in this contest. After all, I was already said to be the favored 'princess' of the Olympian gods. Nobody liked a...'teacher's pet', as they called it.

"It seems...we have a winner," Chiron said slowly. Even he seemed impressed. I glanced at the stands and wished they would do something other than gawp.

The Sisters of Fate must've had a turn of compassion, because all of a sudden the stands erupted into cheers. Even Apollo's campers found themselves swept up in the crowd's excitement and clapped, though perhaps a bit grudgingly. I managed to smile, knees trembling from relief. I dearly hoped nobody noticed. I would never be able to live it down with Aphrodite.

Just then, Mr. D appeared in the midst of the archery range, looking rather annoyed. The campers groaned at the sight of him and his tiger-pattern shirt. They only deigned to sit when Chiron sternly banged his hoof for silence, and even then did so reluctantly.

"I have urgent news," Mr. D said, looking bored and gazing straight at me. "The monsters are gathering fast; you need to stop them before they call me in to fight, which I won't, not so soon after that troublesome Titan War. Hurry up. That Prophecy of yours needs reciting."

I took a harsh breath, blowing it out hard. The campers mumbled to each other, confused and worried looks on their faces.

No point in delaying the inevitable. No time to let my mind wander.

We gathered in the amphitheatre. Very spacious, and with much too sensitive acoustics for my nerves.

"Listen up, bottlenoses! The gods have recently heard of a dangerous new threat, yadda, yadda, prophecy about it as usual, yadda, yadda. Oh, and Elena is actually 30, if you went by years." This was accompanied, of course, by lots of gasps and raised eyebrows. I did attempt a smile at this point, though I suspect it came out more than a little lopsided.

"When she fell unconscious, the Oracle ordained a prophecy." Dionysus had always had a flair for the dramatic, though he was don't-carish and cynical at times.

Everyone gazed at me with wide, nearly disbelieving eyes. I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and recited those dreadful six lines.

"_Monsters will destroy The West,_

_Unless this girl wakes from her rest,_

_Sent to kill the Olympians' foes,_

_She shall watch many in death throes,_

_An evil one whom she befriends,_

_Watches, as the Fifth Age ends."_

When I opened my eyes again, quite a few of the campers' expressions were thoroughly cowed. The surviving number of the forty demigods that had fought in the Great War recently had harsh, gaunt faces, as if they were remembering how it felt to have their prophecy revealed just before they set off to save Olympus. How I felt right about now.

I gulped down some non-existant saliva in my suddenly dry mouth, and continued.

"I have decided to go alone."

There was a loud, disbelieving chorus of whats and quite a few whys as well. Annabeth Chase, whom Athena was very proud of for undertaking the rebuilding of Olympus after the recent Titan War, and slightly miffed with for dating Perseus Jackson, caught my eye and shook her head adamantly.

I shook my head back decisively.

"No. I will not make this an official quest. I'd prefer to work alone." Even as I spoke, I wanted to hurt myself for telling such a lie, though I'm sure Hermes would have been proud of my seemingly calm demeanor. I was terrified. But I also hated asking for help.

That, added to the idea of having two demigods under my command, my responsibility, made me shudder. Especially when the chances of any of us surviving were as slim as a bowstring. The possibility of a quest member dying under my command had already begun tainting my nightmares.

Half-bloods muttered rebelliously at my proclamation, but no one stood up to volunteer themselves. I didn't blame them. Heroics and prideful thinking aside, I couldn't say without a shadow of doubt _I _would have offered myself.

Then, like the grave ending to a morbid joke, the last person I would have thought to volunteer, especially for a quest involving me, stood up. Rather leisurely, as if he was offering to walk down to the convenience store half a mile away to pick something up.

By Artemis' arrows, what does he think he is doing?

"I'll go," James Dorman, son of Morpheus, announced confidently. He looked me in the eye and dared me to refuse.

It wasn't that I hated him. He was annoying. But he was also very capable. I would have welcomed his presence if it didn't _irritate _me to no end. Boys, him in particular, were so cocky and confident of their own abilities. And they usually liked to prove it, as loudly as they possibly could.

Not to say he was _loud _at all. That would have been a major insult in his eyes.

But he always gave me a feeling of unease, like I should be checking if my shoelaces weren't all tied together. Or if my face was not smeared with grease. Or my back taped with an 'I'm retarded' sign.

I didn't really understand the term 'retarded'. I believe it meant strange in the most idiotic way possible. Like someone who was dropped on their head as a baby.

"We must remember that a quest requires 3 participants. It is important that we abide by the ancient decree, or there may be severe consequences," warned Chiron.

I opened my mouth to protest again, but before I could get a word in, a female camper rose.

"I volunteer."

She was younger than James and I, perhaps about fourteen. Black shoulder-length hair with cerulean highlights framed her face, a wave bouncing across her forehead. Her cheerful, confident smile matched her laughing brown eyes. She was slim, flexible like a gymnast, but rather short, just over five feet.

She was dressed in one of the standard orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, probably the only thing that was standard here. At camp, anything went. Her black skin-tight shorts ran down to her knees. On her feet were red running shoes, sneakers. She carried no weapon I could see, but a Pegasus keychain hung from her pocket, and, as she walked up to join me, I noted an interesting-looking clip on her belt.

"Christine Li. Daughter of Hermes. Nice to meet you," she greeted. I shook her hand, feeling myself trying for a smile again and succeeding. Her smile was infectious.

"You're _from _Asia, right? Not Asian-American?" asked James, who had also come to the center of the amphitheatre. "Just asking. I can't tell from the accent."

"Thank you. I worked at it," Christine replied, beaming up at his face, which was quite a way up for her. James was tall. I barely got to his ear; Christine stood an inch below his shoulder at best. "I am from China."

"Oh, wow," I enthused, forgetting about the crowds of people about me and the fact that the amphitheatre's acoustics meant everyone could hear every word I uttered. "Athena was always going on about its history, saying it was nearly as powerful as the Greek civilization, rivaling us in ingenuity."

James raised an eyebrow, arching it like a cat could arch its back.

"I was taught by the gods," I said, rather stupidly, upon reflection, but James was intimidating at times, both unconsciously and consciously.

"I can tell, princess," he drawled, looking down his nose at me unintentionally because of his superior height. I felt my bashfulness freeze into annoyance at the clear, cold disdain, my hand moving nearly unconsciously to my side, where one of my pair of hunting knives hung, unadorned with Mist since there were no mortals here besides Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

'RED', as she was called sometimes, was our resident Oracle. She had a lot of freckles, and some very colorful jeans, which I thought made her seem all the more endearing than an Oracle probably should have, at least according to Apollo. He also had a flair for the overdramatic, and always kept me up to speed (or at least, tried to) with the current trends of the mortals.

"I'll thank you not to call me princess," I said, in a quietly offended tone, and James opened his mouth to retort. Chiron only just managed to cut in before we began trading insults in earnest.

"You will leave first thing tomorrow for Mr. Othrys, at San Francisco. In the meantime, I suggest you three, and everyone else, return to their regular activities." His voice and tone would brook no argument, his wise brown eyes kind yet sad. I wondered suddenly how many times he had had to send his young heroes away, knowing their chances were so slim as to be non-existant. I wondered if he still hoped, after so many years, that they would succeed, knowing was it was like to hurt when they didn't.

I wondered if I would, if I was in such a position. If I would allow the wounds the chance to reopen and bleed over and over, if it meant I retained my humanity.

People slowly trickled away, resuming their camp activities, all the while probably wondering about the fate of the Western Civilization. Percy and Annabeth came over to the three of us, still standing the center of the amphitheatre together.

"I know what it's like to have a prophecy dumped on you, and I know it's not pretty," Percy told me reassuringly. "But I also know that they never turn out the way you think they will."

"I know," I replied, managing to keep my voice from shaking. Athena would have been proud of my self-control. "But, whichever way it turns out, I don't think it will all be roses and banquets."

"More like funerals and _steles_," murmured James. Annabeth shot him a glare and elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! It was a unemotional observation!"

"Exactly," Annabeth deadpanned, hand resting on her hip. It served him right.

"Good luck," Annabeth said to me, grey eyes not unlike James full of cautious warning. "You'll need it. Call us if you want help, because there is no way we are sitting around letting just the three of you fight a monster army, quest or no quest." I nodded mutely in agreement, and Percy tousled Christine's hair before they left.

"Well," James said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and turning to face us. "I'll see you both tomorrow, I guess. Last one to Peleus at dawn gets to carry the stuff."


	6. Ambush

_(A/N): Haha! I am on fire! No not really. Or even literally. But, this is my fastest redo yet. So I am celebrating. Right now. Whooo! See? Anyways, finals are coming up for me so the studying shall commence (or should actually be commencing right this instant but I am a notorious procrastinator, of course). But I hope you enjoy this chapter, since it has cool stuff happening (yay, fight scenes) and I'm just more comfortable with James' character. He and I are more alike, I think; Elena and I just don't fit well and so when I climb into her point of view I often struggle with the controls. _

_Disclaimer: Rick Riordan is writing Mark of Athena as I type this sentence, so no. I am not Rick. Isn't that a surprise?_

At Fifth Ages' End

Ch. 6

Demigod dreams were weird. That's what everyone at camp had told me.

But children of Morpheus' dreams are like going from the deep end of the pool to the raging ocean, in the middle of a Poseidon tantrum.

(Meaning no disrespect, of course.)

When would the scene change? I shoved my hands into my back jeans pockets, looking about idly. The dream had this teenager, about my age or so, serenading the crowd (complete with screeching fans and swooning girls) in a voice that reminded of that brown-haired Apollo kid, with a smile that split his face in two.

The stuff wasn't actually happening to me, though I'd take a trip to Tartarus and blow a couple raspberries at Kronos' before consenting to _singing _in front of a crowd, especially one this big. I was just standing off on one side, watching.

And every time I willed the dream to move on, to change scenario, it responded. Sluggishly, at first, but it got quicker with practice.

I tried not to intrude on the dreams as a rule. Some were trivial; others were disturbing, since I was a teenage guy; some others were painful. There was this one 13-year-old who was in the Ares' cabin, I believe, and deathly afraid of snakes. I tried to help without giving away my identity, since I didn't really want everyone to know I had the ability to go through every single camper's dreams and nightmares at will. It made me feel like a busybody, a gossip, and I'm not even a girl.

I also tried not to spend too much time attempting to figure out whose dream exactly I was intruding on. I didn't want to know. It was better they stayed distant, unknown individuals.

Darkness. Everywhere. I blinked furiously, trying to get used to the sudden lack of light.

"Dorman," a gravelly voice intoned, making me jerk involuntarily. Was this my own dream? Or someone else's?

"You're wasting your time, Titan," my grandfather's voice panted, making my whole body jerk again as I tried to make something out of the dark.

"Your strength and resilience are to be commended, surely," the other voice, cold and menacing. "But all I really require is for you to play live bait. Your grandson will be heading for us soon, and I intend to have you as my main bargaining chip. It is only natural of mortals to have personal loyalties that they will hold on to above all else, including the destruction of the universe. It is also only natural for a higher being like myself to exploit it."

I still couldn't see anything! In frustration, I lashed out, and felt my hand seem to pass through something. This was usually how it was when I was dreaming-hopping; unless I particularly willed it, I was technically invisible and intangible to everything in the dream.

Which meant that this wasn't my own dream. But who's was it then?

I couldn't tell. I couldn't see anything at all.

"They will stop you," Grandfather insisted, and I noticed how his voice seem to tremble, like that time when he got a cold and became all feeble, like other men his age. I had been terrified for him, and for me, because no more Grandfather meant either foster homes or insane mother. "James won't play your game. He isn't the kind to play by anyone's rules but his own."

Grandfather knew me well. I made my own rules. Nobody told me what to do, they only advised me on the best course of action. The final decision was mine alone.

"That may be so," the gravelly voice said smoothly, and I felt the hairs on the back of my arms and neck prickle uncomfortably. "But I hold all the cards. I have you."

I came awake with jolt, sitting up on the bed abruptly, the first time I had been able to since I got here. The usual dream-hopping always made me dizzy and disoriented when I awoke, and I often found myself hanging halfway off the bed in the morning. Then, due to my semi-awake mode, I would try to sit up and slip the other halfway off the bed. It never helped make a good start to the day.

The wall clock said seven in the morning. I groaned and rubbed my face with one hand, wishing I could get some proper sleep for once. And remembering I had a quest to go on didn't help any.

"I'm an idiot," I grumbled quietly, heading for the shower. Suicidal quests shouldn't have been something I volunteered for, but I wasn't about to let dear 'I'm going alone' Elena do her selfless hero act. I had a feeling someone capable was going to have to be on hand to guard her back, and there had been something...someone, urging me to speak up. Whoever it was, this was all its fault. It had better not be trying to get me killed.

And I wasn't too enthusiastic about the other one, either. She seemed so...naive. Talkative. Innocent. At least she was short, and younger than me; push comes to shove the old intimidation techniques would work just fine.

I gasped out of the shower, sufficiently awakened by the cold water, and pulled on a faded blue T-shirt and black jeans, then slipped on my black jacket. The inside pocket, holding my sketchbook, thudded lightly against my ribs. I took my twin knives from their place on the wall and slid them into my sleeves. That way, I could access them easily without having to openly carry a weapon around. That made you a target more than anything else.

Swinging my backpack, with supplies I had carelessly stuffed in before going to bed, over my shoulder, I made my way over to where Thalia's Tree stood sentinel, the Golden Fleece shimmering on its branches. Standing on Half-Blood Hill were Chiron and Elena. Princess had probably woken up at six out of worry, if the haunted, hollow look was any indication.

The girl from Olympus was dressed in black combat boots, denim jeans and a non-descript purple T-shirt. Her backpack and bow was slung over her shoulder. She nodded to me as I climbed the slope, shifting her grip on her backpack unconsciously.

I nodded back, moving up to stand level with her on the slope, giving Peleus the guard dragon a solid pat on the nose. He snorted back.

"Sir," I greeted Chiron respectfully. He inclined his head and gave me a teacher-esque smile, friendly and wise.

The sun was heating up, not quite peeping over the horizon yet but turning a thin strip of sky just where it met the earth orange-yellow. Elena gazed at it peacefully, absentmindedly scratching Peleus behind the ears. He keened in pleasure.

"I used to believe Apollo was just boasting as usual when he told me nothing was more beautiful than his Maserati preparing to launch into the skies on its journey west," Elena told me, eyes on the horizon. "Now I think he was just exaggerating."

"Oh, wow, the sun-chariot's a Maserati now? Cool." A sudden thought struck me. "How do you know what a Maserati is?"

"Apollo showed it to me, while I was in my coma. The gods created this-um-virtual reality, I think you call it, and showed me things about the world," she explained. "Apollo called it a sports-car, though I'm not quite sure why. He was very proud of it."

"He should be. They're beautiful," I replied. Just then a very obvious thud of shoes on grass coming up the hill behind us made Elena and I turn. I tried not to look too disdainful.

Complete amateur. I shook my head as that Hermes' girl, Christine, jogged up the slope with a huge smile on her face. She bowed to Chiron.

Elena smiled, one of the rare times I had seen her face so relaxed and happy, and stepped forward with her hand outstretched. Christine grinned back and gripped her in a hug tightly, making Elena yelp in surprise. I almost laughed at Elena's expression, but then Christine turned to me with a halved melon of a grin and I stepped back quickly. I didn't want anyone, least of all Overenthusiastic Girl, getting all mushy on me.

"Rule number one, Christie," I told her, holding up a finger. "No kissy-huggy stuff."

"Because you're a man, and 'kissy-huggy' stuff isn't manly?" Christine crossed her arms and frowned. I rolled my eyes. Just because I'm a guy...

Stereotypical.

"Because it's called personal space," I said in a flat voice. "Got it?"

"Stop it, James," said Elena in a firm voice, coming to Christie's defence. "She didn't know. And don't be so sensitive."

"I'm not, I'm telling her I don't like kissy-huggy stuff. And she's the one been sexist, Miss Equality!"

"You didn't have to be so touchy about it. And how was I supposed to know in the first place?" demanded Christine. A small part of my ADHD brain noticed Chiron standing by and watching us argue.

"Some of us actually know things about people around camp," I sneered. "Even though we've only been here a few weeks. I suppose it means that I'm smarter than you."

Christine yelled in rage and lunged. I twisted my body to one side so her fist met air, which only made her angrier.

She tried again, and I smirked as I evaded her this time.

"Maybe if you had grown some brain cells when you hit puberty, you'd have a chance-"

"_Enough_," Elena growled, furious, grabbing my arm with one hand and gripping Christine's shoulder with the other, pushing us apart. She looked at neither of us, but angled her head to one side and spoke with gritted teeth.

"James. Don't talk to her like that. Christine, restrain yourself. The both of you, _grow up_."

"Who's going to make me?" I shot back, unable to resist having the last word. Like I said, nobody tells me what to do. They get really frustrated if they try.

Elena's ice-blue gaze narrowed at me.

She pulled back and relaxed.

"I am tolerating you. Watch your place," she said in a deceptively even tone, pronouncing each word curtly. She shouldered her backpack and bow and stalked down the other side of the hill.

Christine, the little brat, stuck her tongue out at me rudely and thumbed her nose before following. I tried counting to ten.

One, two. Three. _Four_...five, SIX, SEVEN. EIGHT. NINE. _TEN!_

I sighed. Counselors are a bunch of crazy lying bastards.

Avoiding Chiron's gaze, I yanked the knife I had hurled at the ground from counting attempt out of the earth and stalked down the other side of the slope.

We hailed a taxi to the bus station nearby. It was very quiet.

I sat shotgun, not wanting to start a fight to the death in the taxi with Christine. Elena sat cross-legged in the back along with Overenthusiastic Girl, who was still huffy.

Trying to cut the tension with a butterknife, the cabbie cleared his throat and said, "Seem a little young to be traveling without an adult, if you don't mind me saying. Where exactly are you kids going?"

"We're going to have lunch," Christine said quickly, about the same time I said-

"Meeting more buddies at the mall."

We stopped for a moment, which gave time for Elena to say, "Where we're going to have lunch."

Cabbie raised an eyebrow, but he didn't ask anymore. We got down to the bus station without any incident (although I couldn't help noticing every single fast food joint I saw and envisioning some fries and a coke), and Elena paid the cabbie. Just as he took the cash, she snapped her fingers loudly.

A cold blast slapped me in the face, and Christine gasped.

"It's alright," Elena said calmly. "Only special precautions." She opened the door and slipped out, and after a moment of staring at the cabbie's blank expression, I followed suit.

"What did you do to him?" I demanded. "He looks lobotomized."

"Whatever that is, he isn't. I have only placed a substitute memory in the place of our faces. He will remember he dropped off three teenagers, but not what they looked like or where we got in from. Simple Mist trick. One of the only I could manage out of all the gods showed me." She waited for Christine to get out, then snapped her fingers again and turned about, heading for the station. I stared after the taxi.

Not a bad trick. Princess had some nice moves for a girl who had been Miss Sleeping Beauty for the last thirty years.

We got on the bus, which was pretty empty, much to my relief. I had forgotten how bad...I forced my rising panic down and sat on the lid, focusing on controlling my breathing. This wouldn't do. I had to calm down.

No, I will not tell you what my problem is.

Struggling to act nonchalant, I sat somewhere near the back and propped my legs on the empty seat beside me. Elena paused, one hand on the seat before me, her expression descending into cold disgust. But thankfully, she didn't argue as she sat down on the opposite end with Christine.

The purr of the bus' engine quickly started up, and the vehicle lurched. I took a deep breath. I could do this.

Christine shifted uncomfortably, watching me from her place next to the window. She thought she was being discreet. My exasperation with her complete lack of skills lessened my tension somewhat over being...in a bus.

Elena finally spoke up. "Christine, will you stop watching James like that, trying to be discreet."

Christine started. "But I wasn't-"

"An elephant stampede would be less obvious," I snorted, slouching lazily in my seat with my long legs stretched out in front of me. Deep, deep breaths. I was doing this.

"Don't be so quick to judge, James. Christine can always learn." Christine stuck out her tongue at me in retaliation, and I gave her an eye roll back. I could see Elena's upper lip jut out slightly in angry frustration at the both of us.

Well, I suppose I should stop. I am sixteen.

A horrible crunching noise suddenly came from the top of the bus.

We looked up as a something large, hairy and sniffly wrenched the top like a can opener. A hellhound, its teeth all ripped and jagged from gripping the metal, gave a ferocious growl and leapt down into the bus. It got wedged between some seats, but a few wriggles and the seats ripped from their holds and crashed somewhere in the back. Mortals started to scream.

"Of all the places..." I hissed under my breath.

Did I mention I also hated hysterics? This hellhound was going back to Tartarus the hard way.

The bus lurched to a stop, steaming and hissing. With a discreet flick of my wrists, my new knife hilts slid into my hands.

I tensed, watching Elena half-rise in her seat and brace her shoulders, her hands pulling out her high ponytail and turning the hair ties into her twin hunting blades. Only Christine hadn't moved; she was just staring.

The hellhound began to rip the seats apart, sending upholstery flying everywhere like falling snowflakes. I hoped the mortals had insurance from rampaging demon dogs.

Springing up, I flipped one of my knives straight up and caught it by the tip, then flung it down the aisle and sliced the hellhound along the side, drawing first blood. The hellhound leaped round to face me, snarling in a frenzy.

Elena met him halfway, flashing blades slashing it on the nose. It howled in pain and lunged blindly, forcing Elena back. She held her ground, barely, deflecting slobbering teeth with a muffled clang.

Before the hellhound could lunge a second time, a bullet imbedded itself in its eye.

What in-?

I turned about and stared at Christine, standing in the middle of the aisle, a celestial bronze gun held in both hands. With a twirl, it turned into dark purple clip that she attached to her belt. She was breathing hard.

Well, well. Who knew Overenthusiastic Girl was a crackshot?

"What?" she asked defensively, as Elena and I raised eyebrows at her.

"Nicely done, squirt," I answered coolly, trying not to show I was too impressed. She might be one of those people who inflate like a balloon with flattery. "Where did you get that gun?"

"Annabeth gave it to me," she shrugged. "Said I looked like a pretty good shot."

"She was right," Elena said approvingly, flicking her blades back into hair ties and redoing her ponytail with practiced ease. Christine tried not to look too pleased with the comment, but the reddening of her cheeks gave the game away.

"Let's go," I said, sliding my knives into my sleeves and hopping off the bus. Looking around, I noticed another bus station nearby, the one we had probably been heading towards. All the mortals who'd been caught in the incident were heading in that direction, apart from a few who were screaming about mutant dogs taking over the world and running in circles.

I'm joking. They were just screaming.

And running in circles.

Crossing the busy street, I felt Elena take two hurried steps to catch up to me.

"Admit it," she muttered out of the side of her mouth, so Christine couldn't hear.

"Admit what, Princess?" She frowned, but didn't take offence with the nickname.

"She pulled her own weight."

"She handled the situation well. That's all I'm going to admit." Elena smiled a small smile, sweetly, like the innocent girl she wasn't.

"Well, now, that wasn't so hard was it, big, tough man?" she teased quietly. I huffed.

"Fine. But I'm not going to give up calling her squirt."

"Hey!" Christine yelled from the back. I laughed.


End file.
